Silly Litle Prompt Responses
by zomgitsalaura
Summary: Just a few prompt responses.
1. Chapter 1

_occasionally i get in a fic writing mood.  
i, however, suck at writing fics.  
tv_the_sue over on livejournal managed to convince me to write a couple "tiny" drabbles though._

_Her persuasion powers are something to be feared D:  
enjoy my horrible tiny fics_

**AirRaid - Slingshot - Presents**

Slingshot stood frozen at the foot of his berth staring at the small package sitting on its surface. Looking back over his shoulder towards his brothers quarters he caught the leading edge of a wing trying to hide itself behind the door frame.  
"'Raid. You know i appreciate the present but what's a karma sutra and how exactly am i supposed to read a human sized book?"

and its continuation

**- Armed with new knowledge**

Scamper found Slingshot in the far corner of the rec room hunched over a datapad looking confused and more than slightly horrified. Silently padding over and peering at the 'pad around Slingshots shoulders Scamper giggled and proceeded to comm Sixgun.  
"Y'know 'Slings, with your frame type I'm pretty sure we'd end up dislocating something if we tried that one" he said whilst pointing at one of the diagrams.  
"Though i think that number three could be done once Sixgun gets here."

**Silverbolt - Metroplex - He's WHERE**

Woken from recharge by the loud, persistent buzzing of his comm, Silverbolt groaned as he reached for the mental command that answered it.  
/Silverbolt here./  
/Silverbolt, i require your assistance in retrieving Slingshot./  
/What? Metroplex? Its... 0200 hrs. What do you mean by "retrieve Slingshot"?/  
/Slingshot has become tangled in wires leading to the communications array on tower B-7. I require the assistance of a flight capable in order to retrieve him./  
/WHAT?/

**Silverbolt - Slingshot - What happened to you?**

Silverbolt stopped walking so fast that Fireflight, having no warning, slammed loudly into the Concords back. Coming down the hall in the opposite direction was a rather dusty and dented Slingshot cradled in Sixgun's arms.  
"Primus Slings'. What happened to you?" Whispered Silverbolt as Sixgun moved to hand Slingshot to him.  
"He got in a fight with one of the new mechs and flew out of a window to escape. Nobody told him about the sandstorm outside and he crashed"  
Hitching Slingshot closer to his chest Silverbolt sighed and started walking in the direction of the med bay, Fireflight trotting along at his heels.  
"So, Sixgun. Whats the name of this mech we have to slag?"

**Air raid - Metroplex - Where do you get your ideas?**

Air raid was sitting at a table in the middle of the rec-room, gesturing animatedly as he told a group of awestruck minibots about his daring attack on the main seeker trine during the last battle. His rather exaggerated description of skywarp falling, squawking, out of the sky was interrupted by a loud buzzing emanating from the walls of the room. Smiling to himself, he activated his comm.  
"Yes metroplex?"  
"That story is very amusing Air Raid but i have a question."  
"Continue."  
"Just where do you get the ideas for these stunts of yours."  
Snigering out loud, and gaining a few strange looks from the minibots in front of him, Air Raid answered both over the comm and verbally.  
"I get my ideas from the internet."

_Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors. _

_feedback is loved. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Skydive x Twins - practice**

_**(This one was requested by death_hendry, she loves her smut but I can't write it so she got this instead)**_

"OW, frag. Skydive! Stop doing that. I keep getting my fingers caught."  
"Hey, it's not my fault. Your brother keeps pushing it back in the wrong direction."  
"Don't try to pin this on me; you're the one who lost the instructions."  
"Well, it shouldn't be that hard, I mean, Jazz and Prowl do this all the time."  
"True, hang on a sec, if you push on that bit right there... ugh, finally."  
"Honestly 'Sides, if you weren't my brother I would kill you for roping me into this."  
"Hey, it was your fault too that we broke the chair. Seriously, why are these damn things so hard to put together anyway?"

**Its continuation**

**Wheeljack – Perceptor - testing chair durability**

Little did anyone know that Jazz didn't always enjoy spending time around other people. Sometimes, he found himself needing to escape the company of his friends and find a nice quiet place to relax.

Recharging in a spot of sunlight on the western side of the mountain on one of these occasions, Jazz was awoken by the sound of something large, heavy and very fast rolling down the hill. A startled shout of "LOOK OUT" had him on his feet and diving to the side in an instant.

Sitting up from ditch he had landed in, Jazz was surprised to find an office chair wedged in the patch of ground he had just been recharging on.

"What in the pit was that?" he whispered, stepping up to the chair and setting it upright. Looking up the mountain in the direction the hair had rolled from, he spied the embarrassed faces of Wheeljack and Perceptor peering out from over a ledge near the top.

"Sorry about that, Jazz." Wheeljack called out, ear finials' flashing an embarrassed orange.

"Why on cybertron are you guys throwin' chairs down th' mountain?"

"Well, so far in the past week, seven of the chairs in the ark were broken. We decided to improve their durability and we were just testing them out."

"Oh... uh... next time you want to throw chairs at a mech, a little warning would be nice."

"Ok Jazz, we'll be sure to post a warning or something next time."

**Prowl – Jazz - Family**

When midnight rolled around and Bluestreak had yet to see Prowl, a quick comm. was sent to Jazz. Twenty minutes later, one sleepy Porch was standing outside the SIC's office, energon cube in hand.

Upon keying open the door, Jazz found Prowl bent over his console completely engrossed in a tactical projection. So much so that he barely registered when the cube was handed to him and his exhausted friend went back into recharge on the couch in the corner of the office.

**Wheeljack – Silverbolt - Flying Lessons**

Many people wondered how Silverbolt acquired his fear of heights. The reason itself, when reflected upon, should really have been obvious to all parties involved and thus, avoided.

The incident forced the command staff to add a new rule to the already infamous "Wheeljack list". Wheeljack, however, was extremely apologetic upon regaining consciousness and insisted that he didn't know the modifications made to his jet pack were going to cause such a spectacular malfunction.

Ratchet, on the other hand, was stuck with one (extremely) traumatized jet and the knowledge that ground mechs should not be allowed to give flying lessons.

**Firstaid – Ratchet - Bullseye**

After the discovery of Firstaids crippling programming conflicts in regards to violence, several "creative" methods of fighting had to be devised. Purely defensive forms of hand-to-hand combat were found to not conflict too badly with his medic instincts and were, in fact, quite useful when patients awoke suddenly after being injured in battle. This training, however, had very little use in long-range fighting, a problem that Ratchet was all too happy to help correct.

Every third solar cycle found Ratchet and Firstaid practicing what came to be known as "Medic-fu" down at the targeting range. The results of this intensive practice were seen the next time Powerglide insulted Fireflight, when a wrench loudly collided with the emergency shutdown at the base of Powerglides neck. What was even more amazing was the fact the Firstaid managed the shot from the opposite side of the Rec room.

**Ratchet - Skywarp - pretty flowers arranged in a daisy chain**

Ratchet wasn't sure what he should be more afraid of, the fact that there were two very angry looking seekers pointing their weapons at him, or that the third seeker seemed to be giggling hysterically whilst covered in small, organic plants. After a bit of thought, he decided that the latter was just a little more frightening.


	3. Chapter 3

We had my grandfather's funeral the other day. This is why I didn't update right away. It seems that angst is quite good at killing my writing bug (or at least temporarily stunning the thing)

Playswithworms was the only one who wanted to play with me today, so all of these prompts were thrown at me by her.

* * *

**Wheeljack - Perceptor - Adoration**

Wheeljack and Perceptor weren't sure whether they should be happy, or worried, about the look of adoration on Fireflights face. They both later admitted, however, that the fireball from the explosion _had_ been quite pretty.

**Groove - Beachcomber - Watching ants**

Groove was fascinated by insects, especially those that lived in a community. He found it amazing that creatures of such low intellect were capable of living and working together as a single entity. Watching these tiny organics at work, however, proved the be a bit of a problem. Especially considering the size difference, forcing him to contort and twist in extraordinary ways in order to reach their level.

One such occasion Groove spent so long twisted into a crack in the side of the mountain that it was dark before he realized that he was unable to move. Luckily, a wandering Beachcomber found the stuck protectobot and rescued him before he could be missed.

**Silverbolt - Hotspot - shh, it's supposed to be a surprise**

Hotspot stared suspiciously at the door to the Protectobot hangars. Turning to the twitching jet attached to his arm trying to _drag _him into said quarters, he decided that it was kind of sweet that they had tried to organize a surprise party for him. He also decided that it was best not to mention that the overly excited Fireflight had accidentally sent him an invitation.

**Defensor - Superion - Earthquake**

A sudden, shuddering earthquake rocked the base, knocking mechs from their berths and tripping them as they walked the halls. This first quake was followed by another soon after, as well as the activation, then sudden cancelling, of the emergency alarms.

Upon entering the firing range, and source of the alarm cancellation, Optimus Prime stopped, mid step, at the sight that greeted him. Practice drones and targets, which had been moved to the far side of the room in order to create a larger space, had been replaced by the towering forms of Superion and Defensor.

Both mechs were engaged in what looked like, from the multitude of dents in the floor, an ongoing sparing match. On the far side of the room, leaning against the offline form of Ironhides favourite drone, stood both Ratchet and Wheeljack, silently observing their creations in their fight.

Walking over silently to stand next to his medic, the bewildered Prime stopped and continued to stare at the grappling gestalts.

"Defensor needed hand-to-hand practice" Ratchet supplied after a long moment. "And Superion was the only mech on base who was size appropriate for the job."

**Firstaid - an unexpected swim**

Firstaid had been working for _hours_. The casualties and damage from the last battle had left a lot of cleaning to be done, and very few mechs physically capable of doing it.

After being gently shoved out of the med bay by Ratchet and ordered to "go get some recharge", he had decided to head down to the banks of the river to help his gestalt mates salvage whatever missing parts could be found. It was here that, while trying to pull a stuck piece of armour plating from a crevice in the rocks, that he finally succumb to exhaustion and toppled, head first, into the river.

He came online several hours later to the sight of his four worried gestalt mates, one very grumpy Ratchet, and the feeling of water weeds squishing in-between plating when he moved.

* * *

If you feel like throwing some prompts at me, just review and stick the prompt on the end :D


	4. Chapter 4

16 prompts this morning when i woke up

I finished ALL of the :D *feeling accomplished*

especially considering i only had a couple of hours i could spend writing them today (damn you housework *shakes fist*)

* * *

**Wheeljack - not everything explodes  
**

Hunkering down behind the blast shield, Wheeljack readjusted his goggles and reached for the activation button. Technically, he didn't even need the shield, or a pair of goggles, that's what he'd told Ratchet anyway… and Prime… and Prowl. Actually, if he remembered correctly, he had told EVERYONE in the command staff. It seemed like they weren't in a listening mood today, the explicit orders for the safety equipment made that abundantly clear.

Keying in the activation code he chuckled quietly. It wasn't like the components of the generator were ithat/i explosive. If the thing decided to go up in smoke it would only make a medium sized crater at best. Even so, he still found himself exiled from his lab for the duration of the test to this barren field.

As the last number was keyed in Wheeljack spiralled his optics out completely, activated his internal visual recorder and pressed the large, green activation button.

At first, it seemed as if nothing had happened, until a low humming began to float from the interior of the generator. After a few seconds a thick, glowing purple liquid began to collect in the cube at its base.

Once the cube was three-quarters full the stream shut off with a soft *click* and the humming slowly died out. Stepping out from behind his shield, Wheeljack quickly strode over to his device and picked up the cube, examining it through one, squinted optic before removing his blast mask and swallowing a large portion of the brew.

Smiling widely, ear finials flashing a happy blue as his taste receptors registered the flavour, he decided that if no-one wanted him to test the generator around them, it just meant more high-grade for him.

**Jazz – Perceptor - FOR SCIENCE**

Hanging suspended by his alt-mode roof from the wall, Jazz stared at the apologetic scientist currently glued too the opposite wall. Ratchet and Wheeljack had already come by in an effort to detach them but had quickly left again muttering something about "solvents" and "removing wall panels".

"Well, this is fun." Jazz stated sarcastically, once again trying to tug his right arm free, only to have it pulled back against the wall with a muted, gloopy "clang" for his trouble. "Seriously 'cept, why were ya makin' this sticky goo stuff anyway?"

"I'm dreadfully sorry for this Jazz." Perceptor said for what had to be the fourteenth time. "I had no idea that the compound would create such a spectacular paroxysm in reaction to the frequencies emitted by your speakers."

"It's okay Perceptor." Jazz said, grinning evilly. "Just promise me one thing. Once we get down from here 'ah want you t' make a batch of this stuff for myself"

**Perceptor – Megatron - Oranges**

The fight had been going badly for the Decepticons. Unused to fighting in wooded areas, mainly because of the lacks of trees on Cybertron, they immediately found themselves outmatched by the smaller, more agile Autobots.

Striding down the suspiciously neat row of trees, Megatron smirked as he caught sight of the Autobots medic, frantically trying to pull his pede from the branches of one of the many trees felled by the fighting. He was so focused on his task that he hadn't yet noticed the warlord standing less than ten trees away.

Raising his fusion cannon, he took careful aim at the white and red ambulance. Moments before he was about to fire, several spherical, orange objects flew from the trees to his right and exploded against his faceplate, stinging his optics and blinding him with their acidic contents.

His roar of outrage, blind stumbling and subsequent tripping over one of the larger trees, alerted the medic to his presence. Pulling himself to his knees and wiping the juicy remains of the organic fruit from his optics, Megatron watched blurrily as the medic finally freed himself from the plant, with the help of the small red scientist, and once again disappeared into the see of orange and green.

**Air Raid - Sideswipe – apprentice**

Sideswipe flinched as an enraged bellow echoed through the base from the direction on the med bay. Seconds later, Airraid leapt over the back of the couch and proceeded to try and hide his bulk near Sideswipes legs.

Refreshing his optics in surprise Sideswipe looked in the direction of the door to the rec room, where an incredible variety of expletives could still be heard, then back at the cowering Airraid.

"What in the pit did _you_ do to make the Hatchet mad?" he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

"I was trying to set up a bucket of paint over the door 'bay." Airraid replied, ducking down further as the sound of furious curses started to get closer.

Grinning maniacally as he patted Airraid on the shoulder, Sideswipe bent down so he could look him in the optics.

"You have much to learn my apprentice." He stated. "First lesson of pranking the Hatchet, never _ever_ let him catch you doing it."

**Bluestreak - silence is golden**

Bluestreak was quiet more often than people gave him credit for, it was, in fact, a prerequisite for his profession. The only problem with this, however, was that people seemed to forget that he was even _there_ unless he was talking.

The silence would soon become terrifying; with no one there to break the quiet, he would begin to feel like a ghost. The silent, grey spectre perched on top of the ruined buildings, all but invisible against the dusty ground.

This was why, whenever given the chance, he would talk, laugh and tell stories to his friends in the rec room. For Bluestreak, silence may be golden, but the sound of his friends' voices was without a price.

**Metroplex - Slingshot - paint the town**

Metroplex had been alive for eons; his databases contained information gathered from millions of sources and covered every subject. All of this knowledge and experience, however, had never prepared him for the sheer unpredictability this single jet.

Watching as the tiny, by comparison, jet hovered near the ceiling in one of his seldom used hangars, Metroplex finally gave up trying to work out just _what_ was going on and opened a comm. line.

/Slingshot./ Metroplex began, startling the jet and causing him to drop several feet before he was able to regain control. /What are you doing?/

Dropping the rest of the way down to the ground, Slingshot began rifling through his anterior subspace storage.

/One of the bots said I was getting boring the other day./ he said, letting a triumph laugh when he located the item he was searching for. /I wasn't really listening to them but one thing they said _did_ sound like fun./

Walking over to the nearest wall, Slingshot dipped the bristles of his paint brush into the barrel he had bought with him.

Grinning widely, he suddenly swiped his arm to the right, leaving a long streak of blue paint arcing across the wall. /That's why I decided I'm going to 'paint the town'./

** Tracks - Ironhide -OWNED**

Peering out from behind the half demolished wall, Tracks quickly released a shot at an unsuspecting bot. Covering their back in fluorescent yellow paint and affectively disqualifying them from the game.

Too busy basking in his superior marksmanship; he didn't notice the quiet footfalls of another mech approaching his position. That is, he didn't notice until a sudden barrage of neon green promptly ruined his flawless paint and a very smug weapons specialist promptly won the game.

**Gestalts - brotherly  
**

They were not born as bothers. Each of them were different, a separate personality that, when merged, forged but a part of a greater whole. Each brought together by vector sigma to serve a purpose. If asked, however, each member would agree that they were, in fact, family.

**Blades -Skydive - hide and seek**

It was rare to have spare time on the base. That was why, when both gestalts were given it, they leapt at the chance to enjoy themselves and have fun.

The aerialbots, given their greater age and experience, thought it would be easy to locate the protectobots when they started a game of hide and seek.

After several hours, and after recruiting several more mechs to aid in the search, the bots were finally found. It was agreed, that after this incidence, the elevator shafts were not allowed to be hidden in, especially once Airraid found the whole Protectobot team clinging to the underside of Blades as he hovered under the elevator car.

Though it was later admitted that the Protectobots were now the undisputed masters of hide and seek on base. That is, they were until Jazz managed to hide on the ceiling of Primes office for most of a day. Prime was extremely surprised when Jazz's arms finally gave out and he crashed to the floor. Ratchet, however, was very, very annoyed.

**Hot Spot - Inferno - fire drill!**

The Protectobots had been created to help people and, as such, it had been decided that emergency rescue training was needed.

As Inferno was the most experienced in this area, the task of training the young team was given to him.

With Blades dropping fire retardant foam from the air, groove and streetwise were given the task of clearing "civilians" out of the danger zone. Hotspot, however, with his extremely heat resistant armour, was given the task of "search and rescue" within the burning building.

Finally locating the target through the flickering light and smoke, Hotspot hoisted them over his shoulders in a fireman's hold. Stumbling slightly under the weight, he made his way quickly towards the exit, spraying foam over the flames on his way out.

Staggering out the entrance, he made his way over to the designated safe area and gently placed his charge on the ground before turning around and helping to douse the rest of the flames.

Once the fire was finally put out, Hotspot made his way back to the safe zone and, flopping on the ground, turned to the watching Inferno.

"So" he started as Blades landed nearby, foam harness being removed by Groove and Streetwise before he could transform. "How'd we do?"

"Well, I'd say y' did a fantastic job," Inferno said, grinning widely before turning to Firstaid "but th' trapped vict'm usually giggles a whole lot less."

**Aerialbots - cheering up Silverbolt**

After a cruel comment about his fear of height left Silverbolt moping in the far corner of the hangar, the rest of the Aerialbots decided something had to be done.

Next morning found the offending bot tied to the top of one of Metroplexes larger towers, screaming loudly about being too high and with all incriminating video against the jets suspiciously deleted.

Since no-one was able to prove anything, the obnoxious mech himself had been unconscious during the entire event, none of the Aerialbots got in trouble and, with the sudden lift in Silverbolts mood, declared their mission a resounding success. Sometimes, being friends with a living city had its bonuses.

**Mirage - Cliffjumper – Dance**

Many of the bots in the room thought that Cliffjumper was either _extremely_ overcharged or had finally lost his mind. Little did they know that his dance partner was shy about dancing in public and, due to this, had accidentally turned invisible.

**Grimlock, Swoop, - Nightmare**

Swoop knew about Grimlocks nightmares. Every time the larger dinobot was woken from recharge by his demons, Swoop would quietly leave his perch and situate himself next to his leader until morning.

The other mechs assumed it was Swoop that had trouble sleeping, and he never felt the need to correct them.

**Motormaster, Breakdown - Hold me I'm scared**

Motormaster was not the violent, heartless leader most mechs made him out to be. This was never more apparent than when, after Breakdown was injured during a skirmish, he spent the duration of the repairs attached to Breakdowns hand, keeping him calm until the sedatives took affect.

**Skywarp - Hook - Valentine's Day**

Hook counted himself lucky that Skywarp had yet to find out about April Fools Day. Especially after spending over four hours picking tiny, paper hearts out of where they had been stuffed into the jets internals.

**Grindor - rotors**

Grindor shuddered as a servo was dragged slowly down his rotor. Spinning quickly in his chair, he was greeted by the widely grinning face of Scavenger.

"What are you doing?" he asked, flicking his rotors and folding them in closer to his back.

"Oh nothing." Scavenger replied stalking closer and leaning over the now pinned helicopter.

Grindor twitched and arched forward as Scavenger began dragging another hand down the now quivering blades. "I just wanted to play with them is all."

**Slingshot – Metroplex drones - this we HAVE to take advantage of.**

No one was quite sure how Airraid had managed it. _Especially_ considering that the jet had also managed to escape with all of his limbs intact.

Sprawled over the back of Slammer, arms cuffed around the barrel of the cannon, was Slingshot. A very angry, very tired Slingshot, courtesy of the Decepticon attack earlier that morning, currently running on only two hours recharge and half a cube from yesterday, unable to activate his thrusters free himself from the compromising position.

After struggling for a while, Slingshot finally gave up trying free himself, groaned, and rested his head, facedown, on top of Slammer. Laughing to himself, Sixgun strode quietly up beside the sulking jet and gently petted him on the head.

"Hey, Six'" Slingshot said, voice slightly muffled by Slammers armour. "Do you think you could let me go so I can go kill my brother?"

"Sure, I can let you go." Sixgun replied, chuckling at the poor mopey jet.

"_After_ you get some energon and a proper recharge." Continued Scamper from Slingshots other side.

Slingshot only groaned and flailed slightly as the three amused drones started making their way towards the nearest rec room, and the energon dispenser it would contain, Slingshot still sprawled, chained, over Slammers back.

**Aerialbots - SMUUUUUUUTTTT**

If anyone had looked through the door to the aerialbot hangars they would have been greeted by a group of very happy, rapidly cooling jets. Luckily, or un-luckily (depending on your point of view), no one did, lest they be pulled into the pile and surrender their moving privileges for the rest of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Jazz, Prowl - kissing booth**

It was far too tempting Jazz thought, leaning against the wall of the recruiting centre. Across the room, sitting in a booth in front of a line of eager, young mechs, writing up the necessary paperwork for the latest recruit, sat a very bored looking Prowl.

Most people wouldn't be able to tell that he was bored but, due to years of practice, Jazz had learned to read Prowls _incredibly_ subtle body language. Shoulders slightly slumped, one door wing held imperceptibly higher than the other and optics a few shades dimmer than normal, Jazz could tell that Prowl was going out of his mind because of the tedium.

Usually jobs like this would be handled by someone in the lower ranks but, due to an increase in decepticon activity in the outer rim, Optimus had decided that it would be best if his SIC handled this latest batch of recruits.

Smirking to himself, Jazz quietly stepped into line behind the mech Prowl was currently serving. When the mech finally finished filling out the pad, he handed it back to Prowl and left. Completing the pad and filing it away, Prowl didn't notice when Jazz stepped up to the desk.

"So, how much?" Jazz drawled, startling Prowl and causing his door wings to rise up higher on his back.

Placing his stylus back on the desk and pulling out the next set of paperwork, Prowl looked suspiciously up at Jazz.

"How much what, Jazz?" he said, seconds before Jazz leant the rest of the way over the desk and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"How much for a kiss?" He answered, Leaning back and grinning at the now thoroughly confused tactician, Jazz chuckled.

"Well, ya had such a nice booth set up over here that ah thought it would be a shame not t' put it t' good use."

**Groove, Streetwise – sniffles**

Groove and Streetwise felt awful; luckily no-one else on their team had contracted the virus that had decided to play merry hell with their systems. Currently quarantined in the med bay, drugged up to the optics and connected to external cooling devices, they both decided that they were lucky that _they_ were the ones who had contracted the virus. Especially considering how fragile 'Aids systems still were.

Ratchet had assured them that, as long as they didn't break quarantine, none of the rest of their team would contract the virus. This assurance was then continued by Wheeljack, when he launched into a very excited explanation about how, once the virus was gone, their new found immunity would be transferred to the rest of the gestalt next time they formed Defensor. They were vaguely worried when he walked off muttering something about "infecting one of the aerialbots" and "making sure the rest got the immunity" though.

For the moment, however, they would just have to deal with aching joints, overheated systems and the crippling boredom of the isolation room while their three, worried gestalt mates hovered (one of them literally sometimes) in the hall outside the bay.

**Wheeljack - OH SLAG, we're all gonna die!**

Over the many years of his career, Wheeljack had developed a rather "unique" method of cataloguing the severity of an explosion. In order to keep track of this, Ratchet had, in fact, recorded a list and posted it on a wall in the med-bay.

The list itself read:

Puff - totalled experiment  
big puff - totalled work-bench  
small crater - totalled work-SHOP  
medium crater - the hall outside the work-shop is totalled too  
large crater - half the ark is gone  
SUPREME crater - what happened to that deception base? 0_o

And last, but defiantly not least;

OH SLAG - we're all gonna die

This final addition to the list had only been heard once. It was on this occasion that Ratchet discovered exactly how fast Wheeljack could run, as well as just how fast blind panic allowed him to pilot a shuttle.

In Wheeljacks defence, Benatos-7 had been a rather ugly planet, more an oversized rock than anything else. The device that caused the destruction had also been placed over a vain of volatile material running under the surface of the entire planet.

Luckily, no one had been on the planet when it finally went up; everyone had already learned to run whenever the explosive engineer did. His hysterical screaming had only hastened their retreat.

Next to the list on the wall, Ratchet had posted a picture of the resulting light show from the planets explosion. Even he admitted that it was rather pretty.

**Fireflight/Scamper - Aiding and abetting**

Peering out from behind the door frame, Fireflight spotted his target. Turning back around to look at the grinning Scamper, he crouched down closer to the ground.

"So you want me to distract him while you sneak up and cuff his arms, right?" he whispered. "Why do you want me to do it? 'Raid is way better at this than I am."

"I want you to do it because he won't suspect you're planning anything." Scamper replied. "Plus, you owe me one for the other day; when you stole my visor and I walked into a wall."

**Slingshot/Air Raid-Imma kill you.**

This one fits in with "**Slingshot – Metroplex drones - this we HAVE to take advantage of" **from the previous chapter

"Yeah, you had better run!" yelled Slingshot. Watching as his gestalt mates' back disappeared, laughing, around a bend in the hall. "'cause when I get out of this, not even Primus himself will be able to protect you!"

**Springer - Hot Rod - You're going DOWN.**

Clinging desperately to the underside of Springers alt mode, Hotrod desperately tried _not_ to think about how high they were.

"Spring…" Hotrod squeaked, coughing once to clear the static from his vocaliser.

"Springer?" he tried again "Thanks for saving me from the 'cons and everything but, y'know, since they're gone now, do you think you could put me down?"

Opening his optics and glancing towards the earth, instantly regretting it and shutting them off again, griping even tighter onto his handholds.

"If not," he added "could you at least fly a little closer to the ground?"

**Sideswipe – Jolt - happy**

Diego Garcia wasn't a particularly large base, especially for a species as large as the Cybertronians. With most of the mechs on base having fast moving alt modes, the confined space and restricted speeds would become tiresome very quickly.

Sideswipe especially had trouble with these rules, but, knowing that breaking them could be dangerous, had devised a simple method of coping. Every day, just before sunset, he would walk a lap around the base. Without the use of his alt mode, this could take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour.

On one of these expeditions around the base, Sideswipe spied a flash of blue through the trees. Deviating from his usual path, he walked towards the where he had spied it, and entered the grove of trees.

Sitting on the ground next to one of the trees sat a very depressed looking Jolt, staring at the large branch he was holding, his whip curled in a pile at his feet.

"Hey, are you okay?" the silver warrior asked, causing Jolt to jump and almost drop the branch.

"I, uh, my whip that is, got stuck on the branch." Jolt said quietly, pulling the branch closer to his chest. "I accidentally broke it trying to pull myself free."

Walking over to the upset mech, Sideswipe reached into his subspace and pulled out an item. "Gimme the branch for a sec." he said, putting his hand out and making a grabbing motion as a confused looking Jolt handed it over.

After a few seconds of standing with his back to the blue mech, effectively blocking his view of what he was doing, he stepped back from the tree. The branch that Jolt had accidentally knocked from the tree, no longer in hand, was now held back in place by half a roll of sealant tape.

"See, I knew I could fix it." Sideswipe grinned, seconds before he was tackled and hugged by a very happy blue bot.

* * *

_i only got __only six prompts today_ :(

_If you want to submit one, review and place it at the bottom  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Wheeljack, Starscream, Megatron -- Be careful what you ask for**

"I _told _you this would happen." Starscream gurgled from where he floated near the door to the lab, staring at the large, jagged hole that used to be the wall of his lab.

"Nobody listens to me though. No ~ I was only the highest ranked student at the academy _ever_. Of course I wouldn't know what I was talking about."

Turning from where he was standing on the ground of the flooded room, Megatron tried to backhand his sarcastic SIC. This attempt was ineffective though, as the drag from the water slowed his hand down enough to allow Starscream to drift out of range.

"Well, if you're so knowledgeable Starscream, why don't you tell me just how the Autobot managed to blow a hole in the side of the Nemisis, especially considering he was using components that were supposed to be non-explosive, as well as escape the ship without a dent?"

"Maybe, my _mighty _leader, he's developed some kind of resistance to explosions." Starscream replied. "According to reports, he routinely does more damage to the ark than we have EVER managed to do."

**Thundercracker - Skywarp: Decepticon Love, a Sin of Omission**

No one knew just how deep their relationship was; even Soundwave was unable to discern the truth. Most people just assumed that seekers flew in threes for convenience or perhaps tradition. Especially considering that it was the most common formation

Even when there were only two, this rarity wouldn't last very long. The spark deep need to find a third would always bring the trine to completion. No ground mech ever knew, mainly because they were never told.

This is why they couldn't blame Megatron; all he had seen was an air commander without a trine and a pair of seekers without a third. Luckily, being forced together like that had been the push they needed. Though, it did take a long time before their link had begun to reach for its third member.

**Bee - Prime - Jazz - an unorthodox meeting**

"In here" a voice whispered from off to his right.

Stumbling slightly at the tight turn, Jazz spun and dove through the entrance just before the door slammed shut. Pressing himself up against the wall, he froze and listened as the Decepticons footsteps thundered past and disappeared down the alley.

"Wow" laughed the voice quietly, "That was really close; are you ok?"

Looking over, Jazz finally caught a glance at his saviour in the dim light and, at the same time, the size of the room he had taken refuge in. Both 'bot and apartment were _tiny_, the ceiling wouldn't even be high enough for Jazz to stand upright, the mech himself, bright yellow and looking at Jazz with an expression of worry, would have only come up to the underside of chest plates.

"Yeah, ahm fine." Jazz answered, wincing slightly as he moved and the blast mark on his leg scraped against the floor. "Dunno what ah would'a done if ya hadn't been here though, little buddy."

Smiling, the little 'bot moved to the other side of the room and began to rummage through a storage chest sitting on the floor. Several minutes later, he closed the box, walked back to Jazz's side, and handed him a small first aid kit. From this close, Jazz finally caught sight of the Autobot symbol adorning his chest and laughed.

"Well, ahm glad ah got saved by one of ma own side." He said, opening the kit and placing a patch on his own leg. "But those 'cons will probably come back this way soon and ah _really_ don' wanna get caught."

Handing back the kit, Jazz opened the door and, once he checked that the coast was clear turned threw a grin over his shoulder.

"Guess ah'll see ya 'round."

* * *

Several orns later, after successfully completing his mission and returning to base, Jazz was called to meeting in Optimus Primes office. Upon entering, Jazz found that both Prowl and Ratchet were already in attendance and standing behind the Primes shoulders.

"Ah, Jazz." Prime rumbled once Jazz stopped in front of his desk. "Thankyou for coming; I thought it would be best if we were all present when I introduced the newest member of special ops."

At the sound of the door opening, Jazz turned and was greeted by the sight of one, small, yellow minibot.

Both bots frozen in shock, Optimus picked up the pad in front of him and began the introductions.

"Jazz, this is Bumblebee."

**Vortex has a crush on someone**

The first thing he registered was a soft buzzing in his audios. Activating his optics, Vortex sat up from where he was sprawled on the ground. The last thing he remembered was Bruticus being hit by some kind of energy weapon.

A sudden shifting of his perch, as well as a muffled moan, pulled him out of his musings. Looking down, Vortex spied a black and purple wing underneath his leg.

"Ughh, owww." Skywarp mumbled, face muffled by the ground. "Vortex, do you think you could, y'know, get off? You're squishing me."

**G1 Sunstreaker, G1 Scrapper and an art gallery**

Staring at the ceiling from where he was currently lounging, Scrapper felt an odd sense of familiarity. Autobot brigs themselves were usually rather boring, square rooms and standard issue orange wall paint being the norm. This cell, however, had obviously been occupied by someone who wanted to fix that.

While the un-imaginative geometry and wall décor remained the same, the ENTIRE ceiling of the cell had been painted to resemble a seekers-optic view of the Cybertronian city of Iacon before the war. The painting itself had been so skilfully constructed that, if not for the almost invisible brush strokes, as well as the tiny signature in the bottom left-hand corner, Scrapper could have sworn that it was an image capture.

Increasing the zoom on his optics, Scrapper smiled as he realised that he could even see the tiny mechs making their way across the main highways. The artist must have been in here a _very_ long time if they had included such fine detail. Readjusting himself on the berth so that he had a better view of a new section of the painting, he sent of a silent thankyou to the unknown artist, at least his stay in their brig wouldn't be as boring as he had originally feared.

**Skyfire, Prowl –understanding**

"You made a mistake on this one."

Jumping in surprise, and swiftly sitting up from his hunched position over the bench, Skyfire rotated in his chair and smiled cheerily at his guest.

"Oh, Prowl. I've never seen you down here. Sorry, did you say something?" he said, lifting his arm and ushering the SIC into the room.

Walking up to the much larger mech and holding out a pad, Prowl pointed to a section of the report. "I said, 'You made a mistake on this one'"

"What do you know, I did." Skyfire replied, taking the report and quickly correcting the mistake. "I'm surprised you managed to pick that up; most bots have this stuff go right over their processors."

Finishing his corrections and handing the pad back to the black and white Datsun, Skyfire chuckled. "It's actually quite annoying not having someone to help proof-read my calculations."

Reading over the pad once more, Prowl nodded and headed back towards the exit. Palming the wall panel and opening the door, he turned around and regarded the still seated shuttle.

"If you ever need someone to look over your calculations for you" Prowl said as he stepped past the threshold, "you know where to find me."

**Mirage / Prowl / Temper Tantrum**

Mirage regularly had trouble recharging, though that was normal, especially for someone in his profession. This current cycle, however, his insomnia was aided by the news of Jazz's capture.

From what intelligence they had managed to gather, it had been an incredibly lucky coincidence for the decepticons. Hiding in the shadows provided by the rafters high in the ceiling, Jazz had apparently been hit by a stray shot caused by a drunken fight in the hallway bellow. Knocked unconscious and unable to fight back, Jazz had been grabbed and promptly tossed into a decepticon holding cell.

Deciding to go for a walk and burn off some of his excess energy, Mirage engaged his cloaking device and slipped silently into the hallway. Being the middle of the night cycle, lighting in the hallways, as well as in all non-essential rooms, had been dimmed to its lowest setting, in order to conserve energy. This was why, when he spotted light spilling from one of the rarely used tactical planning rooms, Mirage's curiosity got the better of him and he had to investigate.

Padding silently up to the door, Mirage cautiously peered inside. At the far end of the room, staring intently at one of the holographic displays stood Prowl. Optics far too dim to be healthy, doorwings drooping so low they were almost flat against his back, Prowl continued to input data into the terminal.

Once he finished uploading the information, Prowl set the simulation in motion; watching the readouts intently. Mirage watched as the simulation neared its completion and suddenly stopped, flashing red, flinching when Prowl snarled angrily and, in a fit of rage hurled a datapad at the wall, shattering it on impact.

Stepping back from the door and briskly walking back in the direction he had come from, Mirage was suddenly very, very glad he was not the mechs who had captured their third in command.

**Red Alert, Starscream, Megatron; He's _mine_! No touching!**

Redalert dodged yet another wide shot from Megatrons fusion cannon; ducking behind a rocky outcrop and firing in the general direction on the decepticon forces.

It was rare to see Redalert on the battlefield; he was usually found helping direct the battle from the safety of the ark. This time, however, Red' had a score to settle.

Watching intently as one of the twins finally managed to knock one obnoxious, red and white seeker out of the sky, Red' sunk quickly into his alt mode and made a beeline for their position.

Looking up from where he had pinned the now screeching seeker, Sideswipe waved cheerily to the transforming security director.

"Hi Red'" He crowed, shifting his grip and subtly grinding the flailing jets face into the ground, effectively muffling his indignant squawk in the process. "We managed to get that special delivery you ordered."

"Excellent, now would you kindly mind letting go of him." Redalert replied, walking up to them and placing his pede squarely in the middle of Starscreams back. "Starscream and I have something important we need to 'discuss', though I don't think he'll be able to do much talking, or anything else for that matter, once we're done."

**Megatron and Soundwave: Stuck**

It was embarrassing, it was humiliating and it was downright undignified. Once again trying to shift back into his root mode and, once again, finding he was unable to, Soundwave conceded defeat and opened a comm. frequency to the Nemisis.

/Soundwave to Megatron. Assistance: Required. Status: Trapped./

Walking swiftly to the command centre, Megatron quickly read the message and opened his own end of the communication.

/Soundwave, what is your location?/

After several minutes of no reply, Megatron sent the message again only this time, in reply, he received a mumbled monotone, and dare he say it, slightly embarrassed sounding response.

/What? I did not receive the prior transmission properly; say again./

/Soundwaves location: Human garbage truck./

**Swindle - 'be prepared for the murkiest scam' **

Onslaught glared suspiciously at his team mate from beneath his visor.

"You're going to sell them _what?_" he said evenly, crossing his arms over the broad expanse of his chest.

Grinning evilly, Swindle merely chuckled. "Come on, it'll be fantastic" he replied. "and all it will take is a little preparation on our part."

* * *

_When I woke up this morning I had 20 PROMPTS._

_Good work guys :D_

_Sadly, I also had to go to work today. Getting screamed at by random customers because the store changed the trolleys so that you have to stick money in them to get them out kind'of wore **me** out._

_It is currently midnight down here in Aussie land and I only managed to finish 10 of them; Sorry :( _

_You'll get the rest tomorrow._

_I also apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes in this; I'm wicked tired and can't find any more myself. If you get confused by something I wrote because I screwed something up too heinously, you can always ask me what I meant. _

_Much love,_

_Laura _


	7. Chapter 7

_Okie dokie guys, these are the leftover prompts from yesterday (and the few from this morning) that I promised you._

_You know the drill, review to submit new prompts._

_On a different note, I'm going to be doing a continuation of "Sniffles" from one of the previous chapters for PLAYSWITHWORMS . Who would want to see that uploaded here? If no-one wants to see it I'll probably just upload it on my livejournal._

_Enjoy this lates batch of slashy crack._

_3 Laura_

* * *

**Skywarp - when in Rome (prequel to previous skywarp Valentines Day mishap)**

Bounding down the corridor, gleefully shoving small, pink pieces of paper under doors as he went, Skywarp decided that humans sometimes had the best ideas for holidays.

He didn't understand _why_ the humans were giving each other sappy admissions of love. He also didn't understand why there were "stylised hearts" everywhere; they didn't look anything _like_ the humans primary fuel pump. Oh well, "When in Rome" as the squishes say.

Grinning manically as he stuffed the last few cards under Megatrons door, Skywarp lived up to his name and immediately vacated the area. Mainly due to the fact that hanging around wasn't in his best interest (especially considering he didn't write his OWN name on any of the cards).

**Megatron - suffer the fool**

Rubbing at the ache developing around his audio sensors, Megatron wondered, for what had to be the thousandth time, exactly _why_ he had made Starscream his second in command.

After several more minutes of listening to the screeching, slightly sarcastic, griping of the furious seeker, Megatron finally decided upon an answer to that question; he had obviously been suffering from temporary insanity that day.

Especially considering that killing the annoying fly-boy now would result in him losing the loyalty of all the seekers currently under his command.

**Ironhide/Annebell Lennox—sticky**

It was sticky and disgusting and Ironhide was having it _nowhere _near his interior.

"Come on 'Hide. Unlock the doors." William pleaded again, readjusting his grip on the toddler. "I promise she won't spill any of it."

"No, that's what you said last time and I STILL smelled of orange juice for a week." Ironhide grumbled, shuddering slightly at the memory, "She is not bringing that liquid inside of me."

Putting his daughter down and holding up the juice container where Ironhide could see it properly, Will sighed in exasperation. "Come on 'Hide, we even put it in a spill-proof cup this time. If we don't hurry and get moving we're going to be late."

Shifting on his wheels and grunting as he finally released the locking mechanism on the door, Ironhide internally grimaced as the small child was secured in the back seat.

"Fine," he said, as Lennox clambered into the front seat, "but if she spills ANY of it this time you owe me a wash."

**Sideswipe and Optimus - how much trouble can I talk my way out of?**

Optimus was shocked, staring, frozen, at the mess that used to be one of the main corridors in the ark. Paint, paper and what looked to be pieces of string, lined every surface.

Walking slowly, trying to avoid not getting tangled in the colourful decorations the confused Prime made his way down the hallway. Stoping when he noticed a large pile of wadded up paper moving, the Prime stepped up to it and nudged it with his foot, only to be greeted by the bleary face of Sideswipe as the paper fell away.

"I highly doubt that you managed to do all of this yourself." The Prime said, crossing his arms and glaring disapprovingly over his face mask. "But I'm going to give you twenty seconds to explain this mess before I sick Prowl onto you."

Groaning and attempting to sit up from where he was currently sprawled on the floor, Sideswipe blearily looked up and replied "I honestly don't know what happened, but how much trouble can I talk my way out of?"

**Perceptor and abuse of that one machine in G1 that can shrink robots**

Several hours of searching, and just a small amount of panic on Wheeljacks part, finally located Perceptor kneeling, face held close to the ground, in a field not to far from the ark. Perceptor, however, was much, much shorter than usual; if he stood upright at the moment, Wheeljack estimated Perceptor would barely come up to his knee joints.

"Uhh… Perceptor?" Wheeljack started, walking up to the mini scientist kneeling down next to him. "What happened? Why are you so small?"

"Oh, hello Wheeljack." Perceptor said, sitting upright and placing something in one of the transformer sized sample cases lying on the ground next to him.

Finally finishing, Perceptor stood up and dusted off his legs. "Remember that shrinking device we perfected a few months ago." He replied, lifting the sample case and starting to walk back towards the ship. "I've found it indispensible in my endeavours to study the native flora and fauna."

"Oh." Wheeljack suddenly said, before standing and following his tiny companion. "Do you think I could try it out sometime?" he added cheerfully.

**First Aid, Blades - to the rescue**

_(Oh wormy, us and our protectobots :D. It seems that your 'verse is where they live in my head now… Coincidentally, Aerialbots live both there and in the 'verse created by the cityjet community over on livejournal…gets a little confusing in my head sometimes…)_

Due to the fact that a large portion of the base was still undergoing cleaning and construction, space was still rather limited. With the Protectobots still recovering from their injuries, Silverbolt had taken it upon himself to offer the gestalt the use of the Aerialbot common room. Considering that the bots hadn't used the berths during their entire stay there, even _with _the Aerialbots being absent, the Protectobots presence wouldn't even be a hindrance.

Walking back to his quarters, Silverbolt saw Firstaid and Blades headed in the same direction. He winced sympathetically at the large grey patch adorning 'Aids back and side; apparently the poor kid was still having some issues with joint flexibility due to his still healing capillary lines. Judging by the fresh piece of flexsteel covering a small portion of wound, 'Bolt guess that the two of them were making their way back from visit with Ratchet. Lengthening his strides until he was walking next to the pair, Silverbolt smiled as he greeted them.

"Hi Silverbolt." Firstaid replied quietly, lifting his hand and waving at the taller jet, eyes glowing brightly behind his new visor. "Did you enjoy your meeting?"

Chuckling, Silverbolt shook his head at the little medic, "No, not really. They were just telling us about all the stuff we're going to have to fly around in the next few orns."

Perking up at this, the up until now silent Blades looked up at the Aerialbot commander. "You mean like lifting rubble and stuff?" he said, voice hopeful.

"Nahh. It's more along the lines of ferrying supplies for the rebuild and stuff."

"Oh." The helo said, rotors drooping along his back. Firstaid reached out and took hold his gestalt mates hand, stepping closer as they continued down the hallway.

"Don't worry Blades, I'm sure they'll let us help with the cleanup once Ratchet gives us the all clear." Firstaid said, gently consoling the depressed looking helo.

A sudden burst of hysterical laughter across the gestalt bond had Silverbolt stopping in his tracks. Apparently the two Protectobots had picked up something similar in their bond as well because, after stopping for a few seconds, they both grinned widely and started walking double time towards their destination, leaving the confused jet jogging to catch up with them while simultaneously trying to figure out what was going on.

Reaching out across the bond, Silverbolt felt for where the laughter was coming from. /'Flight? Is that you?/ he sent, starting to giggle softly himself from the overflow.

The response he received was faint and broken, signifying that the sender was unable to concentrate properly the message. /BOLT! HELP!......... ise… nd… oove have me p….. ICKLES!!/

Reaching the door to the hangar and keying in the release code, the three bots were greeted by the sight of Fireflight, pinned to the ground by Groove and Steetwise, flailing as the smaller bots mercilessly tickled his abdomen and wings.

"fffffff, hahaha, please. Stop. 't tickles. Quit it."

Upon noticing his air commander and the two protectobots standing by the door, Fireflight stretched out his one, unpinned arm towards them, face streaked with optical fluid. "'Bolt! Little buddies!! Help! Pfffffff."

Both Firstaid and Blades were in open hysterics by now, leaning on the wall, and each other, for support as they laughed.

"Come on, 'aid." Blades giggled from his perch next to Silverbolt. "Lets go 'help' 'Flight."

Seconds later, with the help of one helo and a giggly medic, Fireflight managed to turn the tables on his two captors, thoroughly tickling them into submission. Silverbolt, however, was content to stand by the door, subtly taking image captures to show his creators at a later date.

**Ratchet - sweet tooth**

Ratchet made it a habit to always have a large supply of mercury stashed in the drawers under his desk. When added to regular energon, other than boosting the efficiency a mechs self-repair nanites, the mercury would also give the liquid a sweet, almost syrupy taste.

Oftentimes, when Wheeljack had been working on one of his projects for a long time, the only thing that could tempt the reclusive engineer from his lab was a cube of the mercury infused energon. It was these times that Ratchet was glad Wheeljack had such an overactive sweet tooth.

**Hot Spot, Optimus - shoulder to shoulder**

Hotspot rarely drank highgrade, in fact, one of the only times any one could ever _remember_ the blue firetruck touching the stuff was when his entire team was injured and in the med bay after a particularly violent battle.

The _other_ time anyone could remember Hotspot drinking was immediately after his team had recovered. It was on this occasion that the entire rec-room discovered that Hotspot could do an awesome impression of Optimus Prime (similar build types not included).

**Wheeljack, Perceptor - Hey look - it bounces**

Leaning over the table, Wheeljack held the spherical device steady as Perceptor, with the aid of his scopes magnification, inserted the final piece and pressed the activation button. Letting go, fineals flashing a happy blue when it didn't immediately explode, Wheeljack stepped back from the bench... Only to loose his footing on a stray piece of metal on the floor, fall back, and hit the workbench with enough force to knock the experiment to the ground.

Hitting the ground with a "thunk", the device bounced, only to be caught by the slightly panicky microscope.

Standing frozen, arms encircling the glowing sphere, Perceptor looked at his engineer friend, still sprawled on the floor of the workshop.

Placing the orb back on the bench as Wheeljack worked his way back to his feet, Perceptor checked it over for damages and, upon finding none, stood upright and shot an exasperated look at the slightly dazed Lancia.

"Well 'Cept. At least we can put in the report now that the thing bounces, huh?"

**Sunny, Sides and Wheeljack: How fast can you make it go?**

"So" started Sideswipe, optic glowing with mischief as he handed the large remote controlled car to Wheeljack, his twin stepping forward with another. "How fast can you make if go?"

**Jolt - Bumblebee – Rabbits**

Walking across a large, grassy field on the western side of the base, Bumblebee stopped in shock at the sight that greeted him. Kneeling in the middle of the field, aft in the air and face close too the ground, was Jolt.

Coming up next to the blue bot and kneeling down to match, Bumblebee turned his gaze to the hole Jolt was enthusiastically peering into.

/What are we doing, Jolt?/ Bee sent over comms, shifting slightly as grass started tickling the servos in his knee.

"I thought I saw a bunny run in here," came the happy reply. "I'm trying to see if it will come back out, so we have to be really quiet."

Nodding his understanding, Bumblebee locked himself in place and quickly muted his systems, settling in to wait for the rabbit to leave its hole once again.

**Wheeljack and Perceptor: duel to the death**

"What is it?" Perceptor asked, staring at the small, plastic toy sitting on the table.

"Spike said it was called 'Rock-em, Sock-em Robots." Wheeljack replied. "Apparently you press those little buttons and they punch each other until one of their heads comes off."

**SandstormXFireflight - Sandstorm teaches why you don't touch his jet**  
_(Tv_the_sue over on livejournal will know who mystery mech is. He's not cannon and has only appeared in other cracky little prompt responses that I gave her so don't think too hard about it. Let's just say this is him getting some comeuppance.)_

Slamming the black mech into the wall, Sandstorm growled low, slightly tightening his hand around his neck.

"I hear you've been giving the Aerialbots some trouble." He rumbled quietly. "Specifically in the form of some rather," pausing to grab the bots flailing leg from where it was kicking him in the abdomen, Sandstorm lifted the mech slightly and slammed him into the wall hard enough to stun him slightly.

"Like I was saying" the wrecker started again "Your rather persistent advances on the Aerialbots is not unappreciated."

Growling and dropping the mech to the floor, Sandstorm loomed over him menacingly and jabbed at his chest with a large, blunt finger.

"Metroplex may not be allowed do any lasting damage to you" he said, punctuating every few words with a sharp jab, "but if I get wind of you harassing Fireflight or ANY of the other Aerialbots again _I_ just might."

**Red alert – Inferno - "My lambo starscream, hands off!"**

Standing over the incapacitated security director, Starscream smirked and reached down to grab him, only to be blasted off balance by an icy jet of water, and fall head over pede down the incline on his right.

Staring up dazedly from his new position upside down at the bottom of the ditch, Starscream flinched at the sight of one, angry, Firetruck. One _very_ angry firetruck, currently holding the unconscious form of Redalert and glaring murderously at the dizzy jet.

"Try t' touch 'im again, Starscream," Inferno growled, readjusting his hold on the Lamborghini and pointing his hose-arm at the decepticon SIC " an' ah assure ya, ya won' like th' results."


	8. Chapter 8

_My subconscious is a jerk; whenever someone gives me a prompt, I copy it into a word document so I can work on it later._

_In doing this, I don't keep track of who gives me what and, in the process, made someone think I hated them (because BOTH of the prompts I wrote for them ended up ridiculously short)._

_Sorry again :(_

_I only got 2 prompts today so this chapter is rather short._

_Hopefully more will be submitted tomorrow… _

_Oh well, Enjoy todays short bunch_

_3 laura_

_------------------_

**Wheeljack, Perceptor - MENTOS AND COKE**

Dodging to the side in order to avoid a shot, Wheeljack stumbled and fell, flailing, onto the surface of the highway. Rolling back to his feet, the white engineer dove, headfirst, behind the nearby, recently abandoned, supermarket delivery truck.

Hunkering down next to Perceptor, who had obviously had the same idea as Wheeljack, the engineer leaned around the side of the truck and fired a few shots at the advancing decepticons. Wincing and frowning behind his blast mask, Wheeljack tossed his blaster to the side as power indicator blinked empty.

Sifting through his subspace, searching for something to slow the decepticon line, the white Lancia swore vehemently, startling his red friend, when he discovered his storage was empty.

"Hey Percy," he started, "You don't happen to have any volatile chemicals on hand, do you?"

"Sorry, but no. I seem to have used up the last of my incendiary devices a few minutes ago." The microscope replied, pausing for a few seconds, he amended "Perhaps something in our current shield would be appropriate though."

Looking at the side of the truck, Wheeljack pulled back his arm and punched a jagged hole in the side of the container. Gripping the edges and wrenching it sideways in order to reveal the contents. Tossing the freed piece of metal, and smiling happily when he heard it connect with one of the decepticons helms, he reached inside and pulled out several bottles of liquid and a box of sugary treats.

"Hah, wadda'ya know. This'll do nicely." He said, twisting the top off one of the bottles, shoving a handful of the candies into it and quickly resealing the container. "I saw the humans do this on the internet once."

Standing up from behind his shelter, Wheeljack took careful aim, pulled back his arm, and hurled the concoction at the nearest con. Seconds before the bottle could impact with the mechs face; the internal pressure of the bottle caused the lid to explode outwards, coating the bots optics in a sticky mix of diet coke and mentos.

Flailing in surprise, blind, the con stumbled forward, only to trip over a car and land, face first, onto the highway, knocking him out. Wheeljack, however, was still throwing bottles haphazardly into the decepticon forces, while Perceptor, still crouched behind the truck, gleefully handed primed bottles of fizzy doom to the cackling engineer.

**Jazz – Soundwave - hunting**

It was a game, played in subtle harmonics well beyond the audio range of most Cybertronians. Hours could be spent following the soft vibrations, every time the game was different.

Only once had the visored spy slipped up and been caught, accidentally letting the pulses stray into a normal hearing range; thrown into the decepticon brig for orns before he manage to escape. Even then he wasn't quite sure wether he had managed to open the cell himself, or if it had been opened for him.

Slipping silently out of the airlock, the saboteur sent a final pulse in the direction of the decepticon ship, smiling quietly to himself as the answering wave reached his audio sensors.


	9. Chapter 9

_I woke up this morning and had another 20 prompts._

_Sadly, I was only able to finish 10 of them (so if you have prompts to submit, you'll have to wait till I post TOMMOROWS chapter…. Sorry….)_

_The reason I couldn't finish them; was studying for a scuba course I'm doing next week. _

_Anyways, enjoy this instalment and I hope to hear from you soon._

_(Seriously, reviews make me feel happy ^w^)_

_3 Laura_

_P.S On a different note, the unnamed mech being beaten up by sandstorm in one of the previous chapters had been dubbed "EBONY" by tv_the_sue (toaveka)._

_Congratulations punching bag, you now have a name for when we beat you up._

* * *

**Bumblebee - Spike - Waking up in Vegas**

Stretching as he woke up, Spike flinched when his hand met with something solid that defiantly hadn't been there when he went to sleep. Opening his eyes the rest of the way, he was surprised to be greeted by the familiar interior of Bumblebees alt mode.

"Hey Spike," Came the cheerful greeting from somewhere near the radio. "Happy Birthday!"

Looking out the window, Spike was greeted by desert on all sides.

"Bee, where are we going?" he asked, tapping the steering wheel with a finger.

"You said you wanted to go to Vegas someday." The yellow Volkswagen replied, bouncing slightly on his shocks. "So I thought I'd take you there as a present."

**Hook - Grapple - worker's union strike**

To say that Megatron was confused would have been an understatement. Crossing his arms over his chest, the silver warlord leaned slightly to his left in order to address his blue communications officer.

"Soundwave," he whispered, eyes fixed on the Constructicons, who were currently clustered around a communications monitor holding large picket signs" Why aren't they working?"

"Reason: workers union strike. Autobot Grapple: representing human work crews."

**Blaster-Jazz-Soundwave: Batteries not included...**

When Jazz found ravage frozen, mid step, down one of the main corridors, all hell broke loose. Setting off the security alarms and pulling his blaster, the saboteur trained his weapon of the casseticon and waited for reinforcements to arrive.

Noticing that the feline hadn't moved the entire time he'd been there, Jazz slowly walked up to the small bot and nudged him with his foot; only to have the cat fall over sideways, limbs still locked in their previous position.

Rounding the corner at a run, Blaster stumbled, laughing, upon catching sight of the paralysed spy. Noticing the questioning look Jazz shot him, the giggling comms officer pulled himself together long enough to answer.

"He," wheezed the red mech, gesturing in the general direction of Ravage "has run out of charge so you" he said, now pointing at Jazz, "can put the gun away."

Subspacing the weapon, Jazz turned to regard his still laughing friend.

"What do ya mean bah 'Run outta charge'?" he asked, hands planted on his hips, head cocked to the side out of curiosity.

"Well, it seems that ol' Soundwave didn't fill the little guy's batteries properly before sendin' him on a mission." The red tape-deck replied, patting his chest. "My guys have the same problem; it's a cassette thing."

**Kup - Hotrod – Silence**

Hotrod had known Kup for a very, very long time. Such a long time, in fact, that he had literally heard every, single one of the old war-veterans stories.

He could tell you exactly how Kup had gotten that gash on his leg, as well as how many "crazed turbo foxes" had caused it. He could also describe the native inhabitants of at least sixty worlds without ever seeing them or setting foot on their planets.

This was why, whenever the green mech began another of his rambling tales, Hotrod would not respond to anything short of a sharp slap on the arm. Mainly because Hotrods favourite method of tuning the stories out, was to simply turn off his audio receptors.

**Jazz / Blurr / Decaf (Tfa)**

Grabbing onto the twitching, babbling speedsters arms, Jazz sighed in exasperation.

"Ok Blurr, im gonna need you to switch to decaf and say that again." He said, focusing his visor squarely on the blue bots optics.

Rather than continuing his panicked rambling, the twitchy spy suddenly became still and regarded Jazz with a look of confusion.

"What'sdecaf." He asked, tilting his head to the side refreshing his optics.

Laughing quietly at the bots sudden change of attitude, Jazz shook his head and released the mechs arms.

"Honestly Blurr, ah have no idea. Ah think it's a human thing."

**Ratchet / Wheeljack / Discovery Channel**

When neither Wheeljack nor Ratchet had been seen in over twelve hours, many of the Arks residents started to get worried. This was mainly due to the fact that the last time Wheeljack was quiet for this long, he had accidently gotten himself stuck to the floor of his lab by a hardened foam. The fact that Ratchet was ALSO missing only heightened the feeling of dread.

A unanimous decision by all mechs currently off duty in the rec room, as well as both the missing mechs not answering any comms, started the search. The first place that was checked was the Med bay; currently occupied by one small, cheerful Protectobot but completely devoid of their target.

Upon vacating the Med bay, the search inevitably gravitated towards Wheeljacks lab. A lab that was also conspicuously lacking in its chief resident but, surprisingly enough, without the usual scorch marks and smoking debris that heralded his need to evacuate.

Thinking that the missing duo had, for some reason, left the ark, a good portion of the search crew, all consisting of mechs with vehicular alt modes, began to comb the area. The rest of the team, however, continued their search inside the half-buried ship.

A sudden storm, accompanied by a good portion of the surroundings being turned into a muddy mess, forced the outdoor team to return to base. Now sopping wet and covered in dirt, the exhausted mechs made their way to the washracks but, hearing muffled laughter drifting from the CMO's quarters (a strange occurrence in itself considering how little they were used) had the entire team stopping in their tracks.

After making their way to the door and pressing the buzzer, the group stood transfixed as the entrance to the medics' quarters opened. Seated infront of a vid screen, laughing uproariously, sat both the missing chief engineer and medic, well into the fourth hour of Discovery Channels 'Dirty Jobs' marathon.

**Hound / Wheeljack / Defiant**

"I'm sorry 'Jack, but I'm not going to let you test that thing here." Said Hound, arms planted on his hips while standing in the middle of the field.

Wheeljack, however, was standing in front of the angry tracker, winglets drooping and giving him a lost puppy look that could rival Bluestreak's (the effect was somewhat ruined by the blast mask though.)

"Please Hound," he pleaded, ear finials flashing a sad greenish-blue, "I promise I'll shrink the bugs back down to their regular size when I'm done."

**Slingshot / Starscream / Addiction**

It was an addiction, and probably a rather stupid one at that, especially considering the gap in their experience and firepower.

As Slingshot spiralled out of control towards the ground, courtesy of a null ray shot to the engine, he decided it was probably in his best interest _not_ to antagonise the decepticon air commander. This revelation, however, was immediately forgotten in the next battle, when he was able to annoy the screechy jet enough to make him break formation, and subsequently be shot out of the sky by one of Slings' faster brothers.

**Wheeljack / Red Alert / Grieving**

_**(I swear to Primus that, in my head, Red' has named every single camera in the Ark. I dub this one 'Albert'.)**_

"They keep DIEING and there's nothing I can do about it." Red Alert practically sobbed, clutching the camera close to his chest and petting it absently with one of his hands. "People keep BREAKING them. Don't they realise how important they are; without them we could be open to Decepticon incursion."

Wheeljack, however, was valiantly trying not to laugh at the teary eyed security director, who was currently having a panic attack over his security cameras, very glad that his mask hid the betraying grin currently adorning his face.

"Now Red', it can't be all that bad can it?" he said, reaching forward and taking the broken camera, absently noting that it needed a replacement lens. "How about I fix them so that the next person who touches it gets a nice surprise? I'm thinking that something in the "foam spraying" department will be appropriate."

**Ratchet / Hook / Conspiracy**

There weren't many things the two of them could both agree on. Being in opposing factions in an eon's long war could be viewed as proof of this.

Neither of them would hesitate if given the chance to offline the other during a battle and trading insults across the field had become almost a tradition.

There was, however, one thing the two of them both firmly believed; there was obviously a conspiracy running through their faction' ranks. A conspiracy designed solely to prevent them from getting an uninterrupted day off.


	10. Chapter 10

_**ATTENTION! ATTENTION! READ THE AUTHORS COMMENTS!!**_

_**IF YOU DON'T AND SUBMIT MULTIPLE PROMPTS AT ONCE, NONE OF THEM WILL GET DONE!!**_

_Seriously guys, I wasn't kidding when I said I had too many prompts for today._

_I'm not feeling well and the fact that people ignored my plea and submitted more prompts, even after I asked them not too in the comments at the beginning, made me a little sad. :(_

_If you have prompts you want to submit, or if you submitted some yesterday after I asked you not to, you can resubmit it now. But please, one per person. I have twenty or so people who submit regularly now and I'm getting buried._

_Mainly because this is an exercise for myself and every prompt I get in a day gets posted._

_Not trying to be mean or anything, just getting too many e-mails to keep track of._

_The prompts I DO get today may take a while to get posted because I'm feeling a bit sick at the moment; the heat isn't doing great things for the migraine I have. _

_~ Laura_

_p.s_

_oh yeah, someone asked for links to the stories and communities I've mentioned here._

_Lets see, first we have the cityjet community over on livejournal (most of my aerialbot stories exhist in the universe that's been created here) remove the (dots) and place "."-_ _community (dot) livejournal (dot) com/cityjet/profile_

_My Protectobots exist in Playswithworms little universe - a link to her page can be found in my "favourite authors" section on my profile_

* * *

**Prowl / Skywarp / Falling  
**  
He probably shouldn't have attacked the little grey Datsun. Mind you, he probably should have been paying better attention to his surroundings… and whatever it was he was shot with.

How was he supposed to know that the black and white one was such a good shot? Oh right, that one used to sniper, just like the one he had tried to jump on that roof.

It was probably not the best idea to try and escape by flying either, especially considering that the stuff he was shot with was starting to eat through his wing… which hurt… a lot.

He should probably land soon, before his wing snapped off from the strain, and he fell out of the sky.

**Slingshot / Blades / All the World**

If anyone asked, most people would say that Slingshot didn't like Blades. Most conversations between the two flyers usually ended in one, or both, of them insulting the other and walking away.

Most people, however, didn't pay close attention to the two gestalt members and, because of this, were always wondering why their respective teams didn't try to stop their fighting.

In truth, neither Blades not Slingshot hated each other. Insults and jabs were always coated in a thinly veiled sarcasm; never serious and delivered with a subtle grin.

They were friends and comrades, similar in their position as gestalt members and their willingness to move mountains in order to protect those they counted as family.

**Jazz X prowl X bluestreak- a sense of family**

**(**_**This one is a continuation of "family" in chapter 2)**_

Several hours after Bluestreak had commed Jazz, he was finally able to sign off shift. By now, it was well past midnight, the third shift having just turned over to the early morning group.

Bluestreak knew Prowl was busy, especially after the last few battles; the decepticons being particularly ruthless in their pursuit of energy. Jazz himself was still off active duty, having been captured, and then rescued from the decepticon brig. Prowl hadn't recharged the whole time Jazz was gone, nor during the Porches long recovery in the Med bay.

Sighing, the grey datsun finally reached his destination, filling a cube of energon from the dispenser and consuming it in seconds. Before turning away, he filled another two cubes and, stuffing them into his subspace, wearily trudged towards his next objective.

Coming to a stop outside Prowls office, he reached for the key pad and input the code, letting his arm drop as the door slid open and he stepped inside.

Expecting Prowl to still be working at his desk, Bluestreak had to stop and scan the office when the tactician wasn't there. Smiling to himself when he finally located the missing SIC, Bluestreak padded quietly over to the desk, un-subspaced the energon, a blank datapad and a stylus and quickly scribbled a note.

Once this was done, he made his way over to the filing cabinet and carefully removed the contents of the top drawer and, closing it quietly, walked over to the still recharging Jazz on the couch; head pillowed on the similarly recharging Prowls lap, and spread the blankets over the both of them.

Once all was done, he made his way back to the door, careful not to wake the napping duo as he shut off the lights and left the office, glad that his surrogate family weren't working themselves too hard for once.

**Aerialbots & Silverbolt - never leave a fallen comrade.**

It was a rare sight, something that left Ratchet with a sense of dread. Stumbling over a piece of debris in his haste, the medic sent a frantic comm. to Wheeljack, both requesting assistance and transport, hoping that the damage wasn't too great.

Skidding to a stop directly underneath the circling Aerialbots, the white ambulance slid down the sides of the crater until he was perched next to the unconscious Silverbolt.

At first glance, the Aerialbot commander looked terrible; cracked plating and dented wings leaking energon into the surrounding soil. A deeper scan, however, revealed that the concord looked a lot worse off than he actually was.

Sealing off the leaks, Ratchet signalled to the circling jets and watched as they resumed their halted attack on the decepticons, now fuelled by anger over their brothers grounding and the knowledge that he would be safe in the medic's capable hands.

**Skydive/Perceptor/ Oh no you didn't!**

Skydive jumped, and almost dropped his armful of datapads and chemicals, at the sound of the expletive. Stopping in his tracks, he readjusted his precarious hold on the items and tried to discern just who the voice had belonged to.

Unable to place it, he decided that an investigation was in order. Hey, for all he knew someone had hurt themselves.

Spinning around and heading back down the deserted corridor, the jet keyed open each of the doors he passed, looked inside and discovered each one was empty.

Finally coming to the last door in the hall, he opened the door and stepped inside.

"Hello. Is there anyone in here?" he called, peering around a set of shelves and finally spying, of all mechs, Perceptor, hunched over a workbench at the back of the lab.

Laughing at the sound of another string of expletives and effectively startling the scientist into falling off his chair, Skydive placed his load on the bench and helped Perceptor back to his feet.

"Nobody," the jet began, still giggling, "Is going to believe me when I tell them that you know how to swear better than Ratchet."

**Gestalt - Show tunes**

After being cooped up, recovering, in the Aerialbots quarters for so long, the entire Protectobot gestalt was _ecstatic_ to finally be allowed to help with the cleanup.

Within only a few short hours, the five, happy mechs had managed to clean and clear more than the rest of the base was able to over a period of _days_. Even with First Aid only being allowed to lift small loads and Streetwise's limp.

They weren't too worried about Street's leg; Ratchet told them that he was just getting used to walking properly again after so long being immobile.

'Aid was recovering well too, even if it was still a bit strange not being able to see his optics through the new visor. Even the temporary flex steel that had covered his battered side had been removed; the large, still grey patch of unpainted metal that had been underneath now strong enough to protect the vital systems below the surface.

Having left the Medbay, or rather, having been _dragged_ from the medbay by Wheeljack, Ratchet decided to take a detour on the way to the rec room, and the energon it contained, in order to check in on the busy gestalt. With turn about being fair play and all that, Wheeljack was also roped into the little excursion, not that he was complaining mind you.

When they reached the section of corridor the Protectobots were currently working on, the medic and engineer were greeted by the sight, and sound, of five, enthusiastically singing, mechs who, on occasion, would stop working momentarily in order to gesture in time with the song. Well, actually, it was four singing mechs and Hot Spot, who was trying to keep along with the tune but not exactly succeeding, none of the others seemed to mind though.

Wheeljack by this time, of course, had already joined in the chorus of the old show tune, gleefully taking hold of Streetwise's hands and spinning him around a few times before depositing him into First Aids waiting arms.

Even with all of this going on, Ratchet was taken completely by surprise when Hot Spot, grinning and still singing horribly out of tune, grabbed him and got him started on the next verse of "When the first war ended".

**Hound meets Steve Irwin**

Mirage was trying very, very hard not to laugh and was insanely glad that you couldn't grin when in vehicle mode. Hound's excited babbling, which had already surpassed Bluestreak levels and were well on their way to matching Blurr, coupled with his continual bouncing on his shocks, was not helping matters.

"I really can't understand why you're so excited." Said the ex-noble, "He's just a presenter from one of those wildlife shows you watch."

"But Mirage," gushed the excited jeep, "he's not just a presenter, he's a conservationist and he has a zoo and he helps rehabilitate animals and he saves crocodiles and he…"

Dialing down his audios, knowing that the trackers already impressive run on sentence would probably last a fair while, the secretly smiling spy just settled down on his wheels and continued to wait for Steve Irwin to arrive.

**Sandstorm X Fireflight -Jealousy rears its head: a prologue to the don't touch  
my jet **  
_**(FYI : the next three prompts will be in the same story line and are organised chronologically)**_

Returning from their most resent mission, the Wreckers had been surprised when, instead of just the usual landing instructions, Metroplex had sent a personal message to Sandstorm, containing a short list of instructions as well as a meeting time.

Upon landing, Sandstorm had immediately made his way to one of the many unused corridors at the very heart of Metroplex, following the instructions precisely lest he get lost inside the immense cityformer.

Reaching his destination only a few minutes before the time supplied, the wrecker gently eased himself onto one of the many crates dotted throughout the unused hangar, absently noting that he should probably go see the medic about the stiffness in his hip joint.

Turning toward the door as it quietly hissed open, Sandstorm was surprised when one of Metroplex's drone units, Scamper if he remembered correctly, entered the room and stopped in front of him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the much smaller car, currently optic to visor him due to his current seated position, gave the wrecker an entirely too serious expression (especially considering his demeanour on the few other occasions Sandstorm had come in direct contact with him) and sighed breathily through his vents.

"Sandstorm," he started, shifting his weight from pede to pede, "We have a problem."

**Sandstorm X Fireflight- to the victor goes the spoils, and the jet **

_**(Set after "don't touch my jet")**_

This guy obviously had a problem following instruction. Well, it was either that or he had a death wish.

No, the mech _definitely _had a death wish, especially considering he was blatantly ignoring Sandstorms warning in the middle of the main rec room.

Currently, the black mech was standing with one arm planted on a table, leaning uncomfortably close to Fireflight as he talked and occasionally tried to snag one of the flustered jets erratically fluttering wings.

Face turning towards Sandstorm as the triple-changer unleashed a deep, guttural growl, Fireflight's expression shifted from deeply embarrassed, to a strange mixture of grateful, elated and worried upon catching the murderous glint in the angry mechs optics.

The black mech, unfortunately for him, didn't notice the jets sudden change in demeanour and, as Fireflight was distracted, grabbed hold of the nearest wing. Running his hand over the leading edge and drawing a surprised, breathy moan from the startled Aerialbot.

Before he could repeat the action, however, he suddenly found himself dangling several feet off the ground in the hand of one very, angry wrecker.

**Foolish Ebony/Silverbolt/Can I go home now?**

Several hours after the rec room incident, Ebony was found dangling, upside down, from the tip of radio tower seven by a rather smug Silverbolt.

Once he was retrieved, and suitably punished for breaking an antenna in his escape, Ebony was immediately transferred back to Cybertron. Much to the joy of every flight capable currently stationed in Metroplex.

Before he left, however, the dark coloured mech managed to accumulate quite an impressive collection of dents and scratches, almost all of them from the suspiciously large number of glitching doors currently adorning each and every entrance within Autobot city.

* * *

_I proof read this as best I could but I'm not exactly feeling that well at the moment so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes you may find. _


	11. Chapter 11

**_Sorry, I disappeared for a bit because i was busy getting my scuba diving certification._**

**_i still have a few prompts i need to finish before i'll be accepting any new ones but enjoy these two for now._**

**_3 Laura_**

* * *

**Bet you didn't know I could do that!! - Smug Optimus Prime to shocked Megatron.**

Megatron stared, dazed and shocked, from his new position embedded several inches into the side of a hill.

Finally schooling his expression, the silver warlord turned to Optimus Prime, who was currently leaning heavily on the side of his rather dented trailer. His right arm cradled against his chest, leaking coolant and energon in a slow, steady stream down his abdomen.

Sliding down the side of the trailer by his back, the exhausted Prime deposited himself on the dusty ground with a resounding "clank".

With neither combatant able to move, they found the fight devolving into a heated staring and snarky comments.

Huffing through his vents and trying to free his arms from rocky soil, Megatron growled when the movement forced more rocks and soil into his joints. He was forced to stop when the accumulated debris started smoking and his self repair systems shut off power to his arms.

"Well, this is just fantastic." He growled, forcefully blowing dirt out of his vents and offlineing his optics. Only to re-online them several seconds later at the sound of the dented Primes chuckle.

"Hey, I'm as surprised as you are." Optimus said, readjusting himself on the ground in an effort to slow the fuel loss. "I really didn't think I could pull my trailer out of subspace that fast… _especially_ when I was in root mode."

**Optimus - wanting to fly**

Sighing through his vents, Silverbolt signed the bottom of the final report in his rather sizeable stack, threw his stylus in the storage drawer and stretched his arms above his head.

Wincing slightly at the loud clicking noise produced as his neck hydraulics realigned themselves, he braced both hands on the edge of the desk and pushed himself upright. Snagging the reports and tucking them under his arm as he headed for the door.

Stoping when he noticed the lights in the Aerialbot common room were turned off, the confused jet refreshed his optics, checked his chronometer and promptly banged his head on the door frame in frustration. Apparently it had taken him until the middle of the night cycle to finish.

Even Prowl would have turned in by now, mainly because Jazz wouldn't let him work this late, but that wasn't the point.

Padding quietly across the room, so as not to wake his team mates, he finally noticed the dark pink glow of a cube of mid grade sitting on the table near the door. Smiling when he caught sight of his name scrawled across the side, he drank it and sighed in contentment as his fuel levels rose and the warning light in the corner of his HUD finally switched off.

Holding the empty cube up to optic level in order to scrutinise the messy handwriting that formed his designation, he sent himself a note so he would remember to thank Fireflight properly in the morning. If he remembered correctly, there was a container of 'Flights favourite flavour of energon goodies stashed under his berth.

"Well, I should probably go hand these time-eaters in." he muttered quietly to himself, shifting the pads into a more comfortable position and subspacing the empty cube with a fond smile.

Technically the reports were supposed to be handed to the most senior officer on duty, though this was usually not the case with Prowl receiving them instead of Optimus whenever he was on duty.

Noticing that the 2IC's office was indeed locked, confirming his earlier assumption about Jazz having forced Prowl off shift already, the Aerialbot commander remotely accessed the duty roster and made a beeline towards the Primes office.

Upon reaching the door, Silverbolt pressed the door chime and waited to be granted entry. After several minutes of not receiving a reply Silverbolt rapped on the door with his knuckles before giving up and activating his comms.

/Red Alert? This is Silverbolt. Could you tell me where Optimus is? /

/What? Why do you need to know? / Came the security directors' reply several seconds later.

/I need to give him these reports before tomorrow and he's not in his office. /

/Oh, of course. He's outside near the aft laser turret./

/Thanks Red./ Silverbolt said, cutting of his comm. as he walked away from his commanders office and towards the once loading bay, now entrance, of the massive crashed deep space interceptor.

Once he was finally outside, Silverbolt readjusted his grip on the datapads and surveyed the side of the mountain, hoping to spot an easy way up its side. After several minutes of searching the concord reluctantly activated his thrusters and propelled himself onto the topmost hull of the half buried ship.

Landing with a soft thud and a small stumble, he surveyed his surroundings and spotted a blue leg around the side of the massive laser.

Optimus Prime was leaning against the broken gun, one leg bent at the knee, staring at the sky optics dim in thought.

Stepping up next to him, Silverbolt cleared his vocaliser with a burst of static and addressed his commander.

"Sir," he started, causing the red and blue truck to jump slightly and turn to face him. "I, uh, needed to give these to you but you weren't in your office." He explained sheepishly, holding out his arms and offering the Prime the pile of reports.

"I was hoping I would be able to escape the reports up here but evidently I'll have to find a better hiding spot in the future." Optimus said, chuckling quietly at Silverbolts dumbstruck expression.

Taking the pads, Optimus subspaced them and patted a section of the hull next to where he was sitting. "Why don't you join me for a bit? The weather is rather nice up here tonight."

Shaking himself out of his daze, Silverbolt deposited himself on the ground next to his commander. Folding his wings out of the way and leaning back against the turret he turned his gaze towards the clear, starry sky. Noting absently that the moon was almost fully encompassed by the Earths shadow and offering little light to obscure their view of the constellations above.

Increasing the zoom in his optics, the jet watched as a flash of light streaked across the sky. This one was followed soon by several more, winking into existence briefly only to disappear seconds later as they burned up in the atmosphere.

Never taking his eyes off a spot just above the horizon, Optimus quietly addressed the tired Aierialbot. "I must confess, Silverbolt, that I have often wondered what it would be like to fly like you and your brothers do." He rumbled, tapping his fingers softly on the decking where they lay. "I'm sure it would be much more interesting than being stuck in my office all hours of the day."

"Well sir," Silverbolt replied, a note of humour detectable in his voice. "I'll swap with you for a few days if you want."

"Careful Silverbolt," Optimus chuckled as they lapsed back into their comfortable silence. "I may just take you up on that offer one of these days."

* * *

_**Comments and reviews are love.**_

_**i appolagise for any gramatical or spelling errors. I'm still exhausted from Scuba diving all this week and may have missed a few.  
**_


	12. Chapter 12

_(I seem to only ever do these around exams xD Bad Laura. Anyway, enjoy. Hopefully there aren't _too_ many mistakes.)_

**G1 Aerialbots...buying a present**

"What about this one?"

"Uh, no. He'd break it in about two minutes then we'd have the same problem again" Slingshot huffed, scrolling further down the page and almost falling forwards into Silverbolts lap as he tried to operate the computer.

Poking his helm into the Aerialbot commander's office, Skydive gave the squabbling threesome an odd look "Well... two questions. What in the pit are you guys doing and why does Fireflight look like he's about to burst into tears?"

"We, uh, accidentally broke one of his shiny things" Air Raid twitched a wing guiltily "We didn't mean to, honest, but it rolled off his shelf and smashed."

Skydive ran his servo over his helm absently "Get him paint, the nice stuff, and a canvas. He's been saving up for one for ages so..." he shrugged "couldn't hurt."

"Uh, right." The concord, currently playing furniture for two of his clingy gestalt mates (not that slingshot would ever admit to being _clingy_) sighed and clicked through a few more pages, evidently looking for the items skydive had suggested and wincing at the price.

"Um, Skydive?" Air Raid practically chirped from his position half in Silverbolt's lap.

"Yeah?"

The black and red jet gave Skydive a wolfish grin "Can we borrow your account?"

**Optimus Prime & First Aid - utter confusion**

It was amazing how well a mech without any visible facial features was able to convey confusion. It was also a little worrying when said confusion seemed to be directed at the large grill of his alt mode, currently being picked through with a tiny tool clutched in the junior medics hand.

"First Aid?" The Autobot commander rumbled worriedly, turning his helm to look for Ratchet but finding him still busy with the other injured. "Are you alright?"

"Ah, yes sir" The medic youngling seemed to snap of his confused trance, wiggling the tool around in the Primes numbed component as if trying to grab at something.

"There's just..." he trailed off, tugging hard on something caught in the grill and nearly falling backwards when it popped free. "How did you get a rubber chew toy in there?"

**Cyclonus and Scourge- bedtime **

(oh ffffff, damnit. not particularly familiar with them but here goes *cracks fingers... dispenses crack*)

"The mighty galvatron has ordered you to recharge" Cyclonus said, authoritative voice full of authority.

Scourge grumbled, as he was known to do, and glared at Cyclonus's rabbit ears. Mainly because they were more fun to look at than the other mechs optics.

"I do not wish to recharge" he grumbled again, crossing his arms over his chestplates and projecting an aura of unhappiness about the whole situation.

Cyclonus swooned, suddenly overcome by the other mechs forcefulness and strength of conviction. Oh how much like mighty Galvatron this mech was.

"Perhaps" he purred seductively "If I recharged with you"

Unable to resist the rabbit-eared charm, Scourge also swooned. Suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of TRUE LOVE.

They totally boned that night...

**Motormaster/Silverbolt - Wat?**

The fighting between the three gestalts stopped so abruptly that Slingshot didn't realize he was literally firing into the hill until Air raid nudged him in the abdomen.

The two grappling commanders staring at the middle of the battlefield in a state of confusion and just a little awe as the two smaller bots continued to roll around. Onslaught also seemingly transfixed from his position on top of a nearby hill, the rest of their two factions just out of sight on the other side of the ridge.

No one was really sure whether they were fighting anymore, especially with the confused and slightly aroused noises issuing from the 'copters vocaliser.

Silverbolt swore under his breath, cocking his helm to the side and laughing when Fireflight managed to pin Vortex face down in the dust in order to molest the rotors mounted on his back.

"What" Motormaster ground out, making an impressed noise at the sound the little jetling managed to wring out of his faction mate's vocaliser "is he doing?"

"Knew we should have left him at home" Silverbolt shrugged, moving the trucks helm with the motion due to the stranglehold he had around his neck "not like we expected you to cause trouble while we were out on a training mission though. Probably should have told Prime when he called us in."

He snorted, none of the rest of the three gestalts really worried about attacking one another any more as they watched the impromptu show being put on in front of them.

The concord thought he heard Air Raid yell something that sounded suspiciously like 'lick it' and, judging from the collective engine revs and subsequent yell from the pinned copter, Fireflight was all too happy to oblige.

"He's in heat" Silverbolt released the truck, happy with the fact no-one was interested with pounding each other into the ground any more "we have him on suppressants but he's always had a thing for rotors."

Motormaster nodded; slightly amazed that Fireflight was able to bend that way with all that bulky kibble in the way. "So... he's trying to frag him?"

"More or less" The aerialbot flicked his wings "Happens to all of us every now and then."

The decepticons engine purred quietly "So, if you like a mechs frame type you just..." he waved his hands, trying to illustrate the rather amusing manoeuvre Fireflight had pulled off in order to get the copter on the ground.

"Well yeah. I usually go for" Silverbolt gave Motormaster a sly grin "a sturdier frame Skydive is the odd one out. He goes for smarts rather than a specific alt."

The Stunticon grinned back "You like the big ones hmm?" he purred suggestively "Maybe I should hang around your flight path more often"

Silverbolt snorted in amusement, laughing loudly as his smaller gestalt mate started trying to drag his captive copter off into some underbrush.

"Maybe you will."

**Air Raid+Skywarp - Can't touch this.**

Skywarp found this fragging _hilarious_, so much so that he started to wonder why he hadn't tried it before.

Hovering in mid air as the little seeker wannabe, air something-or-other, snarled angrily at him and tried to catch the teleporter. Skywarp absently tossing the jetlings prized 'torsion rifle' in the air and grinning wolfishly.

"Heeey little jetling" he snickered, tossing the weapon and catching it before repeating "want something?"

He laughed loudly, teleporting out of the way at the last minute as the enraged aerial tried to ram him again.

Once again, this was waaaay too fun.

**(Continuation)**

Yep, way too fun a game to play by ones self actually. The purple seeker snickered, teleporting close to his snarky trine mate and tossing him the rifle.

Starscream fumbled with it for a moment, giving Skywarp a confused look as he peered at the rifle now in his hands. Obviously not understanding that they were playing the _best game ever_ because only a few seconds later and angry black blur practically collided with him.

The air commander dropped the prize and flailed as he tried to remain balance. Air raid simply swooped down, reclaiming his rifle and shouting something unintelligible at the pair before streaking off.

... Stupid Starscream, always ruining his fun…

**Prowl and Fireflight - mimics~**

It wasn't often that the chevroned mech worked in the rec room, often choosing to hole himself up in his office whenever there was paperwork to do instead.

Today, however, Prowl found himself sitting at one of the many tables dotted around the room specifically put aside for the use of the crew during their off hours. He wasn't even working for once, the datapad he was absently tapping through purely for entertainment purposes.

While he rarely chose to spend his free time around the rest of the crew it wasn't necessarily notable, especially after several thousand years of working together, so the strange, prickling sensation of being watched was quite disconcerting.

Slowly swivelling his helm to the side, Prowl spotted a pair of wide blue optics and two wings poking out from behind a chair on the opposite side of the room.

Of course, this would have to be the first time the young mechs had seen him relaxing with the rest of the crew. In fact, he was quite sure they hadn't even had a chance to _meet_ all of the mechs on board the ark yet.

What was strangest though was that the jetling didn't seem to actually be looking _at_ him. The phantoms optics seemingly locked on a point somewhere over his shoulders, little wings twitching and flicking in that odd way all of the aerialbots did when they were together.

Blinking over his shoulder, Prowl was met with nothing but the tip of a twitching doorwing and the wall behind him... oh...

He smiled to himself, pretending to go back to his book as he observed the curious jets reaction. Twitching his wing deliberately and barely suppressing a chuckle when Fireflight repeated the motion, ailerons needing to wiggle backwards due to the jets slightly limited range of movement.

This continued for several minutes, the doorwinged tactician twitching out more and more complicated movements just so he could watch the jet try and repeat them.

Eventually he closed his bookfile, linking up to Teletran's database and downloading a copy of simple Vossian wing movements from before the war. Laughing out loud when Fireflight squeaked in surprise at the poorly pronounced ~hello, Fireflight~ he wiggled out, the jetling flicking and wriggling his wings furiously in an enthusiastic reply that the second in command wasn't quite able to catch all of.

Soon enough, Fireflight was distracted from his game of 'talk to Prowl' when one of his gestalt mates offered to go flying with him, leaving the thoroughly amused Praxun to his book and the quiet of a mid-shift rec room.

**Metroplex/Slingshot - On the run**

To be fair, it was probably a stupid idea to try and hide from the city. Mostly because hiding from a mech you were literally _inside_ was an exercise in futility.

Moving their little game of hide-and-seek _outside_ had just created a whole new set of problems. The little car drone almost having a nervous breakdown when searching for the hiding jet had led him out of line of sight of Metroplex.

Asking Sixgun why Scamper had freaked out so badly, the larger drone holding the still shaking maintenance model to his chest, had just gained the jet a sad look and a shake of his helm.

Cornering Scamper later, in one of the numerous out of repair halls scattered throughout the city, had ended with the car drone escaping down one of the ventilation shafts and hiding until Slammer had managed to coax him out. Slingshots interest in the reason for Scampers reluctance to open up only increasing.

Even directly contacting Metroplex through one of his private comms proved decidedly unhelpful. The ancient city-former changing the subject rather quickly after mumbling about something that happened a long time ago.

Grumbling loudly, the visored aerialbot had locked himself in his quarters. Thumbing absently through Teletran's database about Cybertron before the war an old news feed had caught his optic.

Just before the factions now known as 'decepticon' and 'autobot' had officially formed there had been several low-key squabbles over the occupancy of the few remaining city-mechs.

Kidnappings of the city occupants had become commonplace over next several vorn. The most notable of which supposedly being when a subgroup, hoping to force the city into allowing them residence, had accidentally taken one of the city drones.

This had apparently not gone over very well with the mech in question, the city having forcefully ejected all residents and locking its doors. Demanding the return of the drone and refusing to re-open any of the communication channels they were tasked with maintaining, eventually forcing the enforcers to step in and hunt down to group in question.

Slingshot winced, skimming through the rest of the article mostly describing the drones return, though it was not in a very good condition when it was.

After the event the city former had apparently become rather selective about the mechs he allowed to reside within his walls.

The aerialbot sighed, flopping his forearm over his visor and letting the pad flop onto the berth. It was easy enough to work out who the drone in question was, now it was just a matter of helping the drone stop running from his past.

**Ratchet & First Aid - sore hands**

Being a medic could often be quite a painful profession. Sometimes First Aid questioned the intelligence of placing so many highly sensitive nodes onto the one component most likely to get damaged during a repair.

Molten metal, electrical shorts, moving parts and, if they weren't careful, their own tools would often manage to do cause pain during the course of even small repairs.

Most didn't realize that this was often the source of some of Ratchets more _spectacular_ rants. One could judge ahead of time with some accuracy, if you looked close enough, just how much yelling and tool throwing would be involved by the condition of the red paint covering the senior medics fingertips.

The most notable explosion of the CMO's temper had been caused when, after several long hours of working and _finally_ getting the bay clear of injured, a careless Sunstreaker had entered complaining of some minor dent or scratch.

No one quite remembered which it was because, several seconds after entering, the yellow mech had found himself quite literally tossed onto his aft in the hall outside and yelled at for a good half an hour. Ratchets fingertips almost completely gray as he listed almost every one of the frontliners multiple character flaws in between insults directed at his ancestors seemingly all the way back to Primus himself.

Even the gentle junior medic was not immune to having a temper at times like this, though he was not one the yell or cause a fuss in any _visible_ way. His brothers often coming to comfort him once the calm, smooth energy that represented First Aid became a buzzing ball of quiet displeasure.

It was these times that you would often see either Groove or Streetwise practically attached to First Aids hip. The small brothers holding onto the little medics hand and trying to massage away the hurt with gently fingers and kisses.

Luckily for the pair of them there was at least one other mech on board who knew just how finicky a medics hands could be. Wheeljack always seeming to hang around the medbay when he caught the signs that heralded grumpy medics.

Neither of the medically programmed mechs had been able or willing to turn down a quick repair or massage from exuberant engineer yet.

**Hot Spot/Silverbolt - Coming of age.**

"Oh shut up and help me."

Silverbolt laughed, attempting to muffle the sound behind his hand as he dragged a table under the trapped protectobot. Planting himself on top he tugged on the strip of material obscuring Hot Spots optics.

"It _is_ pretty funny though." he snickered, moving to examine the loops of energon cable securing his friend to the rafters by the ladder attached to his back.

"How in the pit did they get you up there anyway?" he coughed, once again trying to cover up a laugh.

"You jets have it lucky" Hot Spot grumbled "when you reach maturity Ratchet just locks you in a room so you don't molest everyone in the vicinity"

The concord snorted, tugging experimentally on one of the cables "You didn't answer my question you know."

The protectobot commander sighed "Ironhide, Prime an Skyfire were required" he wriggled "I'd prefer not to go into details..."

**Starscream/Skyfire- How do you know you won't like it if you don't try it?**

Skyfire blinked slowly at the other scientist, utterly confused as to what the seeker was doing and not sure as to whether he wanted to know or not.

"Uh... Starscream?" the shuttle shuffled nervously, peering over the dividing wall of tubes and beakers lining the bench "Why... what are you eating?"

Starscream shrugged, twisting the rock sample around in his hands before offering it to his partner.

"It tastes pretty good" he grinned, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand "must have some trace metals in it or something."

Skyfire gave the rock an odd look, carefully holding it between his thumb and index finger as he scanned it. "Are you sure this is even safe to ingest?"

The seeker shrugged "We'll find out later, won't we. Just make sure there's a medic handy in case I keel over"

**Jazz - dropping the cards**

Jazz made an odd, garbled noise of panic. Sliding on his roof along the road before slamming into the wall of a store.

Humans screaming and fleeing in every direction as the enormous triple changer transformed and landed heavily at the other end of the street. Astrotrain shaking the rain off of his armor before stalking towards the flailing silver solstice.

The Primes third in command transforming on his back with the sound of grinding gears and half aborted movements before he was fully in his mech mode half under some of the stores shelves.

"Hello there little mech" Astrotrain rumbled, snagging one of the saboteurs pedes and attempting to drag him out into the open.

The smaller Autobot yelped, wrapping his claws around a nearby box and hurling it at the triple changers helm. Astrotrain flinched in surprise, losing his grip on the little mech as bits of cardboard and paper exploded out of the container and found their way into gaps in his armour.

Jazz laughing and scrambling out of Astrotrain's reach before unleashing a barrage of shots across his chest. The winged decepticon roaring and toppling backwards into the street as he tried, and failed, to fend off both Jazz's attack and the tiny paper cards at the same time.

_(blaaaaaargh, can't think of anything else for this one…)_


End file.
